


Swish and Miss

by radam



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Will be Prinxiety and Logicality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radam/pseuds/radam
Summary: Virgil's always known there was something wrong with him, but is he prepared to find out exactly what? Absolutely not.Between dealing with his overenthusiastic roommate, a loud mouth with a house bias, an emotionally constipated bookworm, and trying to find a place for himself to belong- he's got his work cut out for him.





	1. Owl be there for you (at your window)

For as long as Virgil could remember, there had always been something... _off_ about him. Something that almost everyone noticed right upon meeting him- making them isolate him completely at best, or straight up bully him at worst. Not that he could exactly blame them. He was afraid of himself too.

Whenever he found himself alone at school his mother's words would come to him, a soothing murmur as she’d brushed the tears from off his face. _“They just don’t understand you, honey.”_ She’d said, her watery smile making Virgil’s heart ache worse than any punch or scraped knee, _“People are afraid of what they can’t understand. And when they’re afraid, they lash out."_ It was something he kept in the back of his mind as he watched a small group of older kids start stalking their way towards his spot in the grass. Their faces didn’t ring any bells, though it didn’t really matter who they were. If it wasn’t them, it’d just be someone else. They walked in a clear v-formation, the haughty looking boy leading their pack being the first to speak up. “ Hey, Lockard! Gotten sick of trying to blend in with _normal_ people yet?”

That was the thing, wasn’t it. Normal people. Which Virgil certainly was not.

It seemed just as dangerous to open his mouth than to keep quiet. As many snarky remarks immediately jumped to his tongue Virgil chose to keep quiet, ducking his head and ripping fistfuls of grass from the ground instead. Maybe if he ignored them long enough, they’d just go away. As if that had ever worked for him before.

A pair of ratty looking sneakers poked into his line of sight and, hesitantly, he lifted his eyes to look at the boys irritated face. “Are you weird _and_ deaf? I was talking to you!” He spat, Virgil flinching at the slight incline of his voice. “Here I am trying to be nice, giving you the time of day, and you’re just gonna ignore me? Huh?”

“I’d rather be alone.” Virgil said, in what was probably too much honesty. Yeah. Looking at the kids face, that seems about right. “I don’t- need anything...please go away.”

For as many times as the other kids had hit him, you would think he’d learn to keep his mouth shut. Or at _least_ how to duck 

A swift kick smacks him upside the head. The angle was awkward enough that it (hopefully) didn’t do a lot of damage, but was certainly enough to send him face first into the dirt. Clumps of grass he’d pulled up end up in his mouth, and he can barely hear the others distorted laughter over the newfound ringing in his ears. Though it’s not loud enough that he doesn’t hear their leader, who spits next to Virgil’s head and sneers. “See. This is what happens when you turn down someone trying to be nice.” They continue to laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

Something bubbles in Virgil’s chest. A familiar, burning thing, one that over time he’d try to put a name to, but could only settle on thinking it was a slow accumulation of just how _unfair_ everything is. Maybe he could just call it rage. But something so hateful shouldn’t make him feel so light.

The group is just walking away when he pushes himself onto his knees. They’re chatting amongst themselves now, one boy in the middle of saying something when they all break off into screams. A gust of air moves through them, bringing up dirt and everything in its path as most of them tumble to the ground. Their leader has rolled over, yelling as fat tears roll down his face by the time a teacher runs over to see what’s going on.

Virgil kind of blacks out the rest of the day after that. He isn’t sent home early, or even really punished. The boys hide behind the teacher with wide, terrified eyes as she tells him not to let it happen again. She doesn’t bother asking what happened, or trying to figure out who's to blame.

As quick as he was surrounded, Virgil is alone again.

  
  


Both his parents work late, so Virgil has no problem sneaking into the house unnoticed. He tiptoes up the stairs ( always anxious, you never know ) and makes his way into the bathroom to clean up. It’s nothing too bad, a scrape that's already scabbing over and a bruise that only looks angry because he’s so pale. It would be easy, he thinks, to cover it up entirely. Pretend it never happened. But, he doesn’t- he rinses his face and heads back downstairs for an after school snack.

His parents know about the bullying, the isolation at school. It’s not as if they don’t _care_ though. So many sleepless nights he lay awake listening in on the bedroom next door, his mother’s cries and his father’s consoling. Their _anger_. But there’s only so much they could do for him, no matter how much they love him. He thinks that’s probably the worst part. He reaches blindly for the fruit bowl.

A sudden, soft tapping breaks him violently from his thoughts. startled, he drops the apple he was holding, throwing himself back to press against the wall facing the window. _What was that? Was someone trying to break in? Oh god, there’s no way i’ll be able to hide, they’re at the window they can_ see _me i’m dead. I’m so dead goodbye mom and dad i’m sorry i couldn't protect the house i'm sorry-_ is that an owl.

Blinking owlishly, Virgil calms down long enough to see that….yes, that was indeed an owl. Tap tapping at the kitchen window with a single, razor sharp talon. As if it were asking to be let in. But that was ridiculous, right? Not only were owls not exactly local in their area- let alone ones so sterling _white_ \- why would it want in? Especially so…..politely. With his heart still in his throat and knowing it’s a bad idea, Virgil inches as slowly towards the window as he can, never once breaking eye contact with the bird that’s been staring dead at him the entire time. Expectantly.

The owl is patient, and expectant. Virgil’s going crazy and he’s about to die by being mauled by a wild bird.

It’s when he gets closer that he notices something else. Clasped in it’s other hand- uh, claw- is what seems to be a roll of parchment. Not like he claims to be the expert on carrier birds, but he could have sworn that was a pigeon thing. Also who the hell delivered letters via _birds_ anymore.

But surely, then, this expectant owl was here for to deliver a letter. Which meant Virgil needed to get the letter. Which involved opening the window, and then almost surely having his eyes pecked out because _it was a wild animal_. It was a battle between his pounding heart and his racing mind, one which his childlike interest quickly won. Curiosity killed the cat, and it just may very well be the death of him as well.

Gathering all his courage, trying to ignore the way it was watching his every move, Virgil grabs the latch of the window with shaking fingers. He takes a breath One, Two, Three, before unclasping it and ripping the window open as fast as he can-

There’s the slightest sound and he shrieks, stumbling back and squeezing his eyes shut as he waits for the worst. But nothing ever happens.

Peeking through his fingers, he sees the scroll had fallen onto the counter next to the sink, and the owl was now nowhere in sight. Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Virgil first quickly re-latches the window before snatching the letter off the counter and stumbling back into a chair. What. had just happened?

Upon closer inspection it really _was_ right to call it a parchment- much like it’s delivery method, the paper was clearly worn with age, despite theoretically having just been written. Taking great care Virgil unrolls the newest source of his stress, squinting as he reads it over. As he _tries_ to at least. Somehow unsurprising it seems like the letter was handwritten, most likely not with your ordinary pen, and in a very neat and swirling cursive.

Shocking no one, Virgil was one of _many_ twelve year olds who didn’t know the first thing about reading cursive, let alone drawn in such fancy calligraphy.

Just as he’s started to get frustrated, scowling down at the letter and trying to make sense of it , the sound of the door opening makes him perk up. “I’m home! You there, buddy?”  Virgil scrambles down from the chair at his father’s voice, running to the doorway and barreling headfirst into his legs. His dad laughs, “Well hello to you too.” He says, leaning down to settle a reassuring hand on his son’s back. “What’s the rush? Did something- oh, _buddy_. “Breaking off suddenly, he raises a hand to Virgil’s face, “What happened…?”

Wincing at his father’s touch, the once forgotten events of the day come back as a quiet memory. Oh, right, fighting. Not important right now. “It’s not- it’s nothing, really, nothing new- Dad can you read this?” Virgil bounces on his feet, holding the letter up above him and waving it above his father’s head. “It - uh, came in the mail.” Not like he intended to hide the whole _owl thing_ , but for the sake of reading the letter quicker, he deemed them irrelevant details for now.

Though clearly still concerned his father obeys, plucking the note from his son’s flailing hands as he stands back at full height. “Is this from school?” He unrolls it, beginning to read aloud quietly to himself, “Dear Mr.Lockard, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted…” His voice trails off, but it’s clear he continues to read by the way all the color suddenly drains from his face. He looks….confused. Scared? Virgil suddenly regrets opening the window for that stupid owl.

Vigil feels anxiety beginning to well up inside him. “Dad?” he clutches at his father’s pant leg, voice quiet as a mouse. “Is….are you okay?” His fear spurs him onwards, “Did I screw up….?”

That seems to snap him from whatever spell he was under, as he pockets the treacherous letter. “Of course not, buddy. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” He smiles, something that usually fills Virgil with warmth and good feelings, but he knows well enough to see the strain in it. He’s putting on a front for his son’s sake, and Virgil can’t really bring it in himself to question it.

More than anything, he just wants to believe him when he says that it’s okay.

  
  


After being ushered back into the kitchen while his dad starts dinner, it’s quiet. Neither say anything, leaving Virgil with nothing but his own head. It was never a very comforting place for him. 

For once, the sound of his mother coming in the door doesn’t immediately fill him with joy. Instead it’s quiet, he can hear her putting her things away, and how she pauses for a moment. “Hey! Is no one else home?”

His father stops pretending to focus on chopping long enough to sigh, putting down the knife and now brutalized looking carrot. “We’re in here, Dahlia.”

It speaks volumes of their relationship. How his mother is quick to come into the room, already clearly worried when she goes to lay a hand on her husband’s arm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” her voice is a gentle breeze, washing over Virgil and soothing his frayed nerves. “Dante?” It works the same effect on his father, his shoulders slumping clearly as he lets her take some of his weight.

“I’m _fine_.” A frown mars her face all the same, and he squeezes his eyes shut before swiping the wicked letter off the table. “Just- here. I think you’ll understand this more than I will.”

Hesitantly she takes the letter from him. Her eyes flicker downwards then back just as quickly- she wants to say something else, but it seems as if something she read finally registers and she pauses, taking the time to actually read it in full. While she isn’t immediately bleach white like his father had been, it’s clear that something is shining in her eyes.  “Oh, Virgil….”

“What?” he chokes out without meaning to, freezing up when both his parents look at him. What about him? Wait, what’s going on? Did he do something wrong?

Of course she can sense his distress clear as day, and she’s quick to kneel down and settle a gentle hand on his knee. “Shh, sweetie. It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing’s _wrong_.“ he can hear his father make a quiet noise in his throat, “ It’s just….a lot of things make sense now.” She gives a gentle squeeze, “About everything. I know change can be scary. It’s okay to be afraid, but….” Suddenly pensive, she mulls over her words before quickly jumping to her feet. There’s a dazzling smile on her face. 

“How would you like to go to a new school?”

 


	2. So you're telling me Target isn't magic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know i said there'd be less ocs in this chapter but uhhhh. oops.  
> it felt right leaving this chapter off here, so i swear NEXT time we'll see all our other players as virgil ACTUALLY makes his way to school  
> regardless i hope u enjoy! the next chapter shouldn't be too long since i have it partly written (bonus points for any guesses as to whose in what house, tho if u dont want to comment u can find me @ mikakyu on tumblr wink)

While it hadn’t taken long for Virgil to wrap his mind around the concept of magic, it took far longer for him to believe it was something he was capable of.

Sure it would explain ... a lot. Especially the owl, which even during everything had been nagging at the back of his mind ( seriously, who saw owls in Florida ). Also all the horrific accidents and seclusion, those nice things he’d rather not think about.

Despite his father’s clear apprehension ; magic was _amazing_ , his mother explained. Hogwarts - the school he’d be attending? Which meant he’d be away from home most of the year? - was a place where he’d find all sorts of incredible people, people like him. People who could understand him. It would be a place where he’d finally feel like he _belonged_. According to her, at least. Virgil was still skeptical about that part.

Somehow, he wasn’t quite sure since apparently neither of his parents were magic, they got it back to the school that he would indeed be attending in September. That meant he had three months to

  1. Accept that he was a wizard
  2. Gather an assortment of things he had never heard of, and was pretty sure you couldn’t get at target
  3. Get used to the idea that he would be leaving home at the age of eleven
  4. Scream



The fact he wasn’t quite finished with his normal school year apparently was a non issue. His parents told the faculty that he would be switching schools, which they for some reason allowed despite the fact there was no way there would be time for him to finish all his end of the year tests. Normal studies apparently didn’t hold much weight in a magic school.His apprehension aside, if that meant he wouldn’t have to take another math class in his lifetime then he was a little bit more on board with the idea.

Summer heat came with little of the excitement of vacation ( which meant getting away from all the kids at school ), and all of the mounting terror of what was yet to come.

He should be excited about this. About a new school, a fresh start, but there was only so much his parents could tell him about what was yet to come, and not being in school meant he was sitting at home left alone with his own thoughts. So he had plenty of time to think about what could happen and despite having very little to go on there was an ever growing list of things that _could_ go wrong and oh god he was going to die before he even got there.

His dad would often joke that he had a lot on his mind for a kid his age, but this was a whole other level.

 

On a lazy day in the middle of July, Virgil finally thinks to pull on his mom’s hand. “Where am I going to find a cauldron ... ?” He asks while trying to keep the fear from his voice, but his mom smiles sadly and ruffles his hair anyways. He pouts, brushing her hand away and trying not to show just how much the little touch grounded him. “I’ve only seen them in party stores during Halloween.”

“I don’t think those cheap plastic things are gonna cut it, mockingbird.” Virgil makes a face at the name, and she laughs openly at him. “Oh, hush it’s a cute name. You won’t find any of the supplies you need for school around here.“

“What?” His face scrunches up in confusion. “Do we need to go out of state? ... Is there a magic Target?”

While he thought that was an entirely reasonable question, the full blown wheezing fit he sent his mother into seems to tell otherwise. Scowling and trying not to fluster, he stamps his foot to get her attention. “Mom!”

A few more snickers and she’s calming down, catching her breath and wiping tears from her eyes. “Sorry, _sorry_. Oh you’re so cute sweetheart.“ Virgil just barely ducks away from having his hair ruffled again, “Sadly there’s no magic Target, no. We’ll be going to .... uh, shi- shoot, what was it called?“

Leaning over the back of the couch, she grabs a thick brochure that Virgil somehow hadn’t noticed until then. Deceptively simple with a solid black coloring and a symbol on the front he doesn’t recognize - a large multi-colored crest. Definitely seems like something you’d see from a fancy private school. “Diagon Alley! That’s it.“

“Sounds like dragon.“

“That’d definitely be more exciting.“ Pages get flipped through in quick succession. “It says to send the child with a wizard relative. Which you don’t have. So your dad and I will have to do.“

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Is that allowed?“

His mother stares back, unfazed. “It is now.“

That’s the end of that, then.

 

 

“Wait- the school is in _London_ ?!“

 

 

August seems to come and go in a flash despite the amount of time Virgil’s spent agonizing. Suddenly it’s a few days away from September, which means a few days away from his death.

_That’s a bit dramatic_ , the voice that sounds oddly like his mother says. He’d think it was actually her talking, if it weren’t for the fact she was too busy pulling him along a crowded London alleyway while also trying to navigate a crudely drawn map. At least he thinks it’s still technically London, if you count walking through a seemingly random doorway and ending up on an entirely different street still part of the city.

“For a magic school, you’d think they could draw up a better map.“ Giving it another once over, she stuffs it back away with a huff. “Got the books, the cauldron. Now it’s time for ... the wand.”

They stop at a tiny, rustic looking shop made up of windows ; the name Ollivanders written across the top in a simple gold font. From outside Virgil can see the walls are covered, no bare spot not filled from ground to ceiling with books. A bell jingles above their heads as they walk in, alerting the attention of the man sitting at the counter. An old, but nowhere near frail looking gentleman with a twinkle in his eyes. He looks wise. Like someone Virgil would think of, if he thought of a wizard. The old man lights up upon seeing them enter the store. As if he has any reason to be happy they showed up? It strikes Virgil as a bit odd. “Welcome. I’d ask ‘how may I help you’, but that’s probably unnecessary, isn’t it? “

Before his mother can answer he’s sliding off his seat, brushing invisible dust off his apron and making his way further into the store. Perplexed, he and his mother exchange looks. They walk up to the counter and listen to the old man shuffling through his things. “Uh….this _is_ where he picks a wand, right? Not another bookstore?“ His mother asks, half shouting to be heard all the way in the back.

Virgil jumps as something crashes to the ground. “Oops. Well yes, of course you’re in the right place! Ollivanders has been the finest provider of wands for years . _Ah_ , unless- you’re perhaps a muggle?“ There’s a tall stack of thin boxes he’s cradling in his arms. Virgil immediately worries about him tripping and - breaking a hip or something- but he ( Ollivander? ) sets them all down without a hitch.

“Huh? Oh, yes I am a...uh, muggle?“ The man nods. “Right. Both my husband and I are, actually. But he couldn’t get the time off work to come wander around with us.“

“Well don’t you worry. There’s not much to explain- Oh, where are my manners?“ He leans over and between the stacks to hold his hand out in greeting. “Mr. Ollivander, at your service.“

His mother shakes his hand. “Dahlia Lockard, and this is my son Virgil.“ Virgil doesn’t say anything until he feels a soft but insistent nudge at his back.

“....Hi.“

“Nice to meet you, Virgil.” Mr. Ollivander refrains from trying to shake his hand, for which Virgil’s immensely grateful. “Let me tell you, it’s nothing very complicated. Wizards and witches don’t choose the wand as much as the wand chooses them. All you need to do is let yourself feel, and it will do all the work for you. In this particular case, that is."

Virgil pales. That’s unfortunate, because feeling is one of his least favorite things to do. Despite the fact he feels ( hah ) like that’s all he ever does, there’s way too many things that he’s just barely managing to suppress at any given time, if someone asks him to ‘just feel’ - who knows what will happen. There’s no way he can just feel.

All he really manages to say though is, “Uh.“

There’s no chance to contest any further because Mr. Ollivander is putting a wand in his hand- it’s longer than his arm! - and smiling at him expectantly. When Virgil just gives him a puzzled look, he laughs. “Just _feel._ And try giving it a swish, perhaps.“

Just feel. Right. If the anxiety starting to make his skin buzz counts as feeling, then he’s set.

Virgil takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut and flicks.

He waits for the sound of either the entire building collapsing, or something far away exploding. When neither of those happens he figures it’s okay to peek. Both his mother and Mr. Ollivander are staring at him expectantly, but after a moment passes the man hums. “Well, that one is no good then.“

It feels like he’s done something wrong. Virgil ducks his head, mumbling as he hands the wand back. “Sorry…"

“Now don’t you worry, young man. You haven’t done a thing wrong.” Mr. Ollivander sets the debunked wand aside. He catches Virgil’s eye, drumming his fingers on his desk and humming thoughtfully. “Well….it’s a bit unusual, but I think I have just the thing for you.” He says, before disappearing into the back of the store once again.

“Unusual…?” Virgil whispers under his breath. His mother still catches it, and offers him a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t just get a normal wand?“

Mr. Ollivander reappears from the darkness, carrying a box that looks a bit more worn than the others. “Normal is merely a word people use to constrict themselves, my boy.“ He says, before blowing off a thick covering of dust and waiting for the air to settle. “Now let’s try this one.“

Virgil accepts the new wand with growing apprehension. This wand feels….different, somehow. While the other had been more of a rich, lively color - this is pale. Sickly and dead looking as if all the life had been leached from it. As if it could do the same to him, if he weren’t careful. Between that, and the fact Ollivander had called it ‘unusual’, Virgil gets the idea that this was a wand that didn’t end up in many other hands. That was probably a bad thing, but….

There’s something about it that feels right. Like it was a weight in his hand that he’d been missing his entire life until then. There’s a feeling thrumming through him, a heavy blanket settling on his heart- the warmth soothing his stress, his fear. It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

It feels like home.

Taking a deep breath, Virgil forces himself to let go and just … breathe. While it’s hard at first, the hard thumping of his heart leaving him lightheaded, it eventually becomes something easier. It feels …  _good_. It feels right. It feels -

“Light!“

Blinking his eyes open, Virgil squints against the harsh white suddenly in his eyes. It’s not that the lights in the store are suddenly any brighter, however, as much as it is the soft light suddenly illuminating the tip of his wand. He stares, eyes wide and shining in awe, lips parted as he struggles to maintain his composure. There’s still a lot of things he’s unsure of. So many things that could go wrong, but he’s suddenly so excited.

When he looks up, he sees Mr. Ollivander smiling warmly at him. “I hope you enjoy your time at Hogwarts, Virgil Lockard. You’ll do well there “

Stunned, Virgil doesn’t even jump when his mother leans down to throw her arms around him. Squeezed tightly and enveloped by the soft scent of home he thinks, _maybe things will work out after all ?_


	3. choo choo here comes anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well this took a hot minute  
> at least we actually got the rest of the cast in this chapter lmao

Things are  _ not _ working out. 

The suitcase Virgil’s dragging is about twice his height, which makes dragging it behind him almost past awkward into borderline painful as it bumps insistently against his ankles. It’s a crowded train station, which means there are clusters of people moving past him ; making constant waves of motion and noise that leave his chest tight and head spinning. A whistle blows every so often, making him jump every time without fail - all of the confidence he’d felt at any time before now is starting to dwindle, like a match seconds away from burning out. 

The heavy weight of his favorite over sized hoodie is the only thing keeping him from spiraling into full blown panic, but even that can only do so much for him right now. Something soft brushes the back of his neck, and he flinches. 

While his mother would have loved nothing more than to see him off, apparently an urgent case had come up at work. Some sort of emergency surgery for a family’s pet dog and, while she’d told him she was sure someone else could handle it, the strained edge of her smile had been all he’d needed to see. He told her that it was fine, he would be walking through a magic portal that took all of five minutes anyways, they’d spent the last weekend doing things together as a family so he felt more than well ~~loved~~ _ suffocated _ enough to go by himself. No he wasn’t upset, and yes he could handle finding the train on his own. It was no problem.

Apart from the part where it was, you know. Nothing but problems.

Jerking the suitcase to a stop, Virgil peers up at the sign for Platform 10. Glancing back, he looks at the one for Platform 9 with mounting concern. As many jokes as he’s made about his dislike for math, he’s not  _ stupid _ \-- this is the only place platform 9 ¾ could  _ be _ . Had they written it down wrong? That’d make sense. He wasn’t too used to trains, but he sure as heck didn’t think they ever went into  _ fractions _ . While he could also feasibly ask one of the employees, whose job it was to help him, the very thought made his stomach turn. 

Oh, god, he’d screwed it up hadn’t he? Something as simple as finding a train! He wouldn’t be able to get to the school, and he wouldn’t be able to find his way  _ home _ either, so he’d be stuck living in a London train station all by himself, he’d eventually starve to death or be eaten by rats or, or  _ worse _ -

“You doing okay there, buddy?”

Had the ceiling above them not been so high, Virgil would probably be through it with how far he’d  jumped. His hand flies to the ear the voice had spoken beside, whipping around to stare at the person-- kid?-- who was now looking quite concerned. They hold up their hands slowly, as if placating a wounded animal. “Woah now! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook ya.”

Though perhaps taller than Virgil they don’t look any older, evident by the high voice and chubby cheeks littered with freckles, wide brown eyes sitting behind a large pair of thick-framed glasses. His mother had once said that some people spoke more with their eyes than with their mouths, and while he hadn’t quite got it at the time he thinks he can understand now, looking at their completely open expression of concern. The boy slowly lowers his hands, but when he speaks his voice is very gentle. “You just looked a bit lost, kiddo. Wondered if I could help you.”

Alright, that certainly catches his attention, somehow more so than his irritation at being startled. “Kiddo?” Virgil asks, furrowing his brows. “You don’t look that much older than me. If at all.”

It’s like a lightswitch gone off. Apparently they’re pleased Virgil’s initiating any sort of conversation, face brightening noticeably as they clap their hands together. “Guess I’m too used to being around the kids my mom takes care of. But you gotta admit, you are pretty tiny-” He bites his lip sheepishly at Virgil’s glare. It’s a sore spot, dang it. “But if you don’t like kiddo, you could tell me your name then? Or not! But you still look pretty lost.”

Virgil considers it. Usually he wouldn’t just go handing his name out to anyone, but he also wouldn’t be having such an easy conversation either. All things considered he usually actively avoids people his own age, but there’s something about - whoever this is, that seems so nonthreatening. Maybe it’s the freckles. 

Well, in for a penny in for a pound. “Virgil. My name’s Virgil.” He says quietly.

Just when he didn’t think this guy could smile any wider. The boy looks like he’s practically vibrating with unleashed energy, distractedly shaking the handle of his luggage as he jumps in place. “Virgil! Oh, that’s so cute!- Wait, I haven’t told you my name. It’s Patton!” He - Patton says, thrusting his hand out towards Virgil, before immediately rethinking and retracting it in favor of returning to his fiddling. “It’s nice to meet you Virgil. Now that we’re on a first name basis, maybe you can tell me if you need any help then?” Virgil blinks dumbly. Oh,  _ right _ . Magic school. How was he going to explain that, exactly? He doesn’t need to think on it long, however, before Patton proclaims, “I’m going to platform 9 ¾ myself. It’s pretty  _ magical _ .”

Oh. Well that was convenient. Also a really terrible joke, unless he’s grossly misunderstanding. “Uh. Me too, actually.”

Several people turn their heads to look when Patton  _ squeals _ and throws his arms around Virgil, who goes stock still in his hold. Though he seems to realize his mistake quick enough, unwinding his arms but still keeping a hold of Virgil’s shoulders. “I’m sorry! No touching, right, sorry- but I’m just so excited! I’ve already made a new friend, and we haven’t even gotten to school yet!”

Virgil, as gently and as nicely as he can, plucks Patton’s hands from off him. “No touching. I don’t do touching, just- wait, friends?” Virgil squints, discomfort suddenly replaced by confusion ( skepticism ). “We’re friends? … Really?”

“Of course!” Patton smiles amiably, stepping back and out of the other’s bubble, which seems to Virgil a lot like an out. As if he’s saying that, sure,  _ he _ thinks they’re friends, but if Virgil really isn’t up for it - this is his chance. It surprises him just how perceptive Patton is at dealing with him, despite the fact they just  _ met _ . It also surprises him that he doesn’t immediately consider running away from the situation, like he normally would.

Given a mysterious bout of courage, Virgil decides to take the plunge and nods. “...Right. Okay. Do you know where it is, then? The platform, I mean ‘Cause I have no idea.”

“No one told you? Well that’s just silly!” He shuffles past Virgil with his luggage in tow. “It’s right here.” Patton says, patting the stone column then turning to Virgil with an expectant look, who in return just stares at him dumbly. “You just gotta run on through without stopping.” He says, as if it’s just that easy. Right. Okay, sure. What?

Seeing Virgil’s obvious distress, Patton giggles. “We can go together if you’re nervous, kiddo.” This time, he ignores the indignant look he gets, grinning. “It’ll make me feel better too.” Extending a hand, Virgil eyes it nervously.  _ Very _ slowly, he takes it, trying not to cringe when Patton gives it a gentle squeeze.

“So, how-” Virgil starts, expecting Patton to give him some sort of warning before they start moving, but suddenly the brick wall is rushing into his vision and he  _ screams _ .   
  
  


 

Everything goes black. This is it, he’s dead. Death feels just as cold as he expected it to, with just as much overwhelming noise, including the train whistle- train whistle?

“You can open your eyes now, buddy.” A voice says, tinged with barely hidden amusement. Virgil hesitantly cracks an eye open, seeing Patton’s warm smile and realizes oh, he isn’t dead yet.  Between that and remembering how loud he’d just shrieked, he’s kind of embarrassed. 

Patton however doesn’t seem to care, more concerned with now taking in their surroundings with the definition of childlike wonder. “ _Ooooh._ ” He gasps, pulling Virgil along by the hand. “ Look at the train. It’s so big ! And red !” And while he’s somewhat preoccupied by the fact that he’s being lead around by the hand like a  _ child _ , Virgil has to agree it’s impressive. Travelling by train definitely isn’t too commonplace in Florida, but of the few he’s ever seen, none of them have been anywhere near as magnificent. 

Seeing a man in uniform standing right by the door makes Virgil immediately nervous - was there a ticket he hadn’t gotten? Yet Patton continues barreling on, stopping just long enough to flash them a smile, and apparently that’s all they need to get aboard. 

While nowhere near as loud as the station, there’s a quiet murmuring filling the air around them as they travel the length of the train, Patton stretching on his tiptoes to look into rooms for empty seats. It’s clear they took a fair amount of time with … whatever you’d call their exchange. 

Virgil’s just resigned himself to spending the entire trip awkwardly curled up in the hallway when Patton perks up. He knocks on the door excitedly, not waiting for a response before cracking it open. “Howdy there! Room for two more?”

“It would appear there’s adequate room for two more people, yes.” An even, monotone voice replies. Patton grins and bounces into the room- letting go of his hand, finally- to take a seat beside them. Leaving Virgil to stand awkwardly in the doorway. 

Virgil can see them now, pressed up to the side of the window with a book in their hands. Even though they’re the same age they seem somehow older, despite sporting the same dorky pair of frames as Patton. It might be the mature, quiet air about them- or the fact they seem to be growing like dandelions in his father’s garden, suddenly and all at once. 

While Patton begins to prattle on, Virgil slinks down into the seat across from them. “ -is Patton! And this right here is Virgil!” Two sets of eyes turn to look at him, and he flinches. Self-consciously, he looks away while Patton continues. “What’s your name?”

“Logan.” T he boy answers, adjusting his glasses before flipping to another page in his book, appearing for all intents and purposes done talking . Yet Virgil knows, despite only having met him about thirty minutes ago, Patton doesn’t do quiet.

“Oh, I can’t wait until we get there. It’s going to be great! Do you know anything about Hogwarts?” he asks aloud. When there’s no response, Virgil shakes his head. Apparently not deterred, Patton barrels on. “I don’t have any siblings so I don’t know for sure, but a lot of the kids and their parents ma looks after are witches and wizards. I heard there’s candy that  _ moves _ .” he gasps, suddenly, turning to Logan with worried eyes. “You don’t think it  _ hurts _ them, do you?”

While Virgil doesn’t expect that of all things to get a response, he’s surprised when Logan lifts his head, looking somewhat inquisitive. “That’s an interesting question, getting into the en….ethics of transfiguration, as well as consumption. Of course there’s also the question of whether spells like that would be considered ‘alive’ or not, a controversial topic discussed in - “

It might be a relief to Virgil that he gets cut off mid-rant, if it weren’t for the fact that the door slamming against the wall nearly sends him out of the window in terror. Patton and Logan both look to the door mildly surprised, while he tries to calm his now racing heart, pulling his hood tighter around his face.

“ _ Finally _ , you’d think there would be more room on a magic train!” The voice, confident and loud, belongs to another kid their age-- one who has no reservations about coming into the cabin and plonking himself in the empty seat beside Virgil, who flinches away as he tries to press further against the wall. “If my parents hadn’t made such a fuss, I wouldn’t have had to show up in such a tizzy. Just  _ look  _ at my  hair.” That said, he goes to work sweeping it back into a perfectly styled quaff. It’s impressive, sure, but Virgil’s too busy considering if he can live falling out of a train at this speed to really consider it. This guy is so  _ loud _ , and not to mention fussy.

“Well I think it looks great!” Patton chirps, friendly smile again perfectly in place. Logan goes back to his reading, and Virgil pulls the sleeves of his sweater to hold between his fingers. Noticing the silence, Patton continues, “ _ And _ this is Virgil and Logan.”

The new guy notably puffs out his chest. Virgil rolls his eyes. “Roman Prince, at your service. Though you migh t  have heard of me.” Silence. He deflates a touch, then continues. “I come from a long line of purebloods.”

“From a family of Slytherins, then.” Logan chimes in, drawing everyone’s attention. Roman raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Most purebloods are. It’s not a very…..common thing.”

“Well, yes. You are right.”

Patton claps his hands. “Well that’s neat! You know what house you’ll be in, then.” he says. None of them quite notice how Roman’s expression falls. “I wonder where I’ll end up….”

While he’d been quiet up until now, Virgil’s curiosity urges him to speak despite his nerves.”What...houses? What are you guys talking about?” They all look at him, Virgil looks at the ground. “Isn’t...I thought it was a castle.”

“Are you serious?” Roman asks. “What are you, a  _ muggle _ ?”

There’s that word-- muggle. Virgil had heard it before, at Mr. Ollivanders, but it was different then. Something about the way Roman says it now has his stomach swooping with a sudden, sickening dread.

He hears Logan sigh. “Hogwarts school system divides the student body into four separate houses, based on traits they primarily embody or prioritize.. We’ll all be sorted, along with the other first years upon our arrival, in front of the staff and the rest of our peers. We will then spend the next eight years in these house.”

Roman nods to himself while Patton grins and continues chatting casually to pass the time, and Logan recedes back into his bubble. Virgil is, meanwhile, trying to keep reality from slipping like sand through his fingers. His vision is starting to blur around the edges as he feels panic starting to overtake him. As if the idea of being sprung with a test he wasn’t prepared for wasn’t bad enough, it would be in front of people? In front of judgmental adults, and other kids his own age? Despite the many layers he’s wearing, he feels his blood run cold.

“Virgil?” Snapping back to attention, Virgil notices Patton looking at him with worried eyes. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

He opens his mouth-- to say something or vomit, he’s not sure -- when a loud train whistle cuts both of them off. All four of them turn to the doorway, as they hear people begin to shuffle about, and a voice telling them that they’ve arrived at their destination. 

If he wasn’t feeling so terrible, Virgil might be glad to be on solid ground again. Puking in front of these people wasn’t exactly on his to-do list.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> dips toes into the fandom
> 
> i posted this on tumblr (mikakyu) but decided to put it here now that it's got a working title. i'm not sure if this will be a full blown plot orientate fic or just snippets of their lives throughout their time at hogwarts but, hey, you'll find out when i do
> 
> the next chapter will be less oc orientated i swear


End file.
